DOVER BEACH         

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; -on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched sand,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

by Matthew Arnold 1822 - 1888

INVITATION TO DOVER

Have You Been To Dover ?
The Gateway of this Land
And looked up at the Castle
A Fortress there so Grand.

The Sea Front bright with Flower Beds
And Fountains Silver Spray,
A lovely walk on the Promenade
When its a Sunny Day.

This Town has the Channel
Where they come to Swim
Or go boating, fishing
According to a whim.

So come to Dover
Where there is Country, Town and Sea
And if you are my Friend
Then come and visit Me !

I write Such Poetry to you
When filled with Inspiration,
Because I feel the Beauty of
Our God and His Creation.

DAHLIA HARRIS ©
Member of the National Poetry Society 26249

DOVER LURCHERS

We're a set of lazy lubbers, and to Dover Port belong,

Deserved abuse, we've got in prose and equally in song.
With spying-glass and lengthy yarns, the visitors we beguile,
Whilst standing at the "Warden Point" when gentle breezes smile.
When the stormy-fiend's abroad,
D'ye think the seas we roam;
We knows a trick worth two o' that,
And chaws our quids at home.

We are neither soldiers, sailors, or what's called horse marine,
But are commonly called "lurchers" and knows the trade I ween.
When other folks have got a job, how many times we've gulled
A cutter or a cruising boat, when the stormy winds were lulled.

When rain or sleet or storm-fiend reigns, we all'us hides away,
And keep our yarns and glasses aired until some finer day.
We lets the ships go past to Deal, when raging waves are wild,
And stops at home or goes to tea till boreas draws it mild.

When ship or steamer comes from sea, with Deal boat standing by,
We "lurchers" run to touch a mark, then for a Pilot hie.
It has always been the custom since we commenced to lurk
And we've always felt in duty bound to bone the Deal men's work.

This lurking dodge has been carried on a century more or less,
But now we're in a sorry plight, being in a precious mess,
The Chief Policeman's just been here with most infernal grin,
And told us to move on, or else he'll run the whole tribe in.

Misfortunes never singly come so much to our surprise-.
Our wives came screaming to the Pier, the tears were in their eyes,
"A ship's been sunk, there's a drowning crew, so man your boats
right quick, "Or we'll tickle all your tobies with a handy birch broom stick.

We soon perceived the Deal Boatmen proceeding to the scene,
So we thought we'd take it easy, our minds being all serene.
People were running here and there and kicking up a. fuss,
And crying out "there's life to save," but it did'nt trouble us.

No doubt we've made a sad mistake, it cannot be denied,
In not going out to save the lives from the sinking ship Strathclyde.
The noble-hearted people here now treat us all with scorn
Since we've collapsed and come to grief and of our laurels shorn.

We've been pampered, petted and upheld by high and low, 'tis said,
But never cared to cruize the sea when storm-fiend raised his head;
But yet there's life in us old dogs, tho' we get so many kicks,
So on some other shoulders the blame we'll try to fix.

We must admit the Deal men to the greatest danger haste,
It don't suit us, so all we say-we're sorry for their taste,
Like gentlemen of England, we prefer our homes and ease,
And don't care much for braving the dangers of the seas.

The 'Strathclyde' and 'Franconia' case has fairly cooked our goose
For twice five hundred newspapers have showered down their abuse;
We'd like to duck 'em in a tub, each penny-a-lining "cuss,"
For' saying the Dover Servant Maids have far more pluck than us.

To excuse us the Dover Press have tried with all their might,
They'd better try to paint the moon or wash a black man white.
They say the thing's as clear as mud, if anything more plain,
We are the bravest old sea dogs that ever ranged the main.

No more we'll cruise about the Bay, when gentle breezes smile,
Or with our yarns or long-shore togs our visitors beguile,
Give "Breeks" and "Jackets" to our wives, for all the world can see,
For seamanship or daring deeds they're better men than we.

We're tired of a seaman's life, and wish for more repose,
So we'll buy a stock of starch and blue, and take to washing clothes,
We'll brush and scrub and wring and1rub, with all our might & main,
In this congenial occupation we may some laurels gain.
Warden Point, Lubber's Walk, Dover, .March, 1st, 1876.
G.T.S.